Article-1855, August 15

Kansas Legislators at Dinner

Westport, Wednesday Aug. 15, 1855.

   Westport is a thriving, bustling, and, at present, muddy little city, four miles from Kansas City, one mile from the boundary line which separates the Territory from the State, and two miles and a half from the Shawnee Methodist Mission. Its population, I believe, is about 800. It supports a Methodist and a Union Church, two large hotels, several bar-rooms, (no booksellers’ stores) and a weekly newspaper, which changed into a daily at the commencement of the Legislative session, and is now published tri-weekly. From the usual appearance of Westport, I should judge that a brisk business is regularly transacted here.

   The Legislators board either at Westport or at the Mission. At the Mission about one half of them are accommodated night and day. The others sleep, breakfast and take supper here, some of them returning daily for dinner also.

   Three, sometimes 4 stages, ply between Westport and the Mission three or four times a day. A stage also runs regularly from Kansas City to Westport, and occasionally visits the Mission.

   The fare to the mission is twenty-five cents a trip; To return at noon for dinner, therefore, cost fifty cents. The same sum is charged for dinner at the Mission. Those who prefer dining “very well” in preference to dining “plainly,“ returned to Westport at noon; those who prefer their ease to the gratification of their palettes, bid them good speed but remain at their posts. Of course I always remain. I think, as the Indians very truthfully remark, “it is better to sit than to ride.”

   Shortly after twelve o’clock—generally a few minutes after the House adjourns—the first dinner bell rings. Dinner bells in this section, I may state, are huge affairs—they are hung at the top of the house—and their sound is heard at least a mile off. As soon as honorable members hear the bell ring, there is a sudden stampede from the “Manual Labor School” to Mr. Johnson’s house, in which the dinning-room, kitchen and lounging room is situated. The distance between the two buildings is about two hundred yards. As soon as our Solons reach it, they proceed to the front door and sit on forms and chairs under the verandah, discussing bills, (not bills of fare, but legislative documents,) past, present and to come, newspaper criticisms on members’ conduct, political rumors and territorial interests, till the second bell rings.—They then besiege the door of the dining-room, and generally managed to play off practical jokes until the “dinner horn” sounds and the door is thrown open. The members are very gallant.— “Make way for the ladies, gentlemen,” is a rusewhich has often opened a file in the ranks of the dining-room door besiegers, to enable the wag who uttered it to walk into the foremost row with the greatest ease. Cutting out letters in the printed “Notice” pasted on the door—making left hand table read left hand tale, rates for dinner, rats for the same meal, &c., is another popular dining-room door amusement. I won’t mention the cunning fox-and-crow custom of praising some modest man’s “personal puleriture”—if he happens to be very near the door—so immediately that he is at least forced to retire to the hindmost ranks to “hide his blushes.” I won’t mention it, I say, because it is as obviously stolen from AEsop’s as many of the Statues passed at the Mission are “cribbed” from the Missouri Code, and I wish to notice original features only.

   When the dining room door opens, there is a rush—but unto what shall I liken it? The meeting of mighty waters, to use the refined phraseology of Young America, is certainly “no circumstance.” The first interview of long separated lovers fails to convey an idea of it. “Itself alone can be its parallel.”

   The dining room is a long, lofty, dingy apartment, at the further end of which (one smells on entering it,” the kitchen is situated. Two parallel tables support, the fare, and forms a support to the consumers of it. The left hand table is appropriated to the—I can’t say any goats, because free soldiers in Kansas are so designated, so I will merely say the members of both Houses, Judges, the Governor, (they call him only “Squire” now, ) and the young ladies who may be out there visiting the Legislature, and the wives of the various “Courts” and other sons of Blackstone. The right hand table is appropriated by outsiders in general—officers, distinguished strangers, reporters, printers, and often clergymen.

   At the head of the left hand table sits Gov. Reeder; but, since his last memorable veto, he seldom enters until nearly all the others have left. At the head of our table sits the President of the Council, our host the Rev. Mr. Johnson. As soon as all are seated, he gives a “thump“ with the handle of a knife on the table. Silence ensues. A grace is then asked by himself “Now come the tug of war.” Knives and forks ply, and corn-cakes, milk, and breads of various sorts disappear with a rapidity unparalleled, except by the denizens of the 19th century.

   Are fare is good, but simple, and toujurors la menne. It consists of liquors, butter, sweet milk and pure water in unlimited quantities.— “Solids:” Corn-bread, wheat-bread, boiled or roast beef, and boiled ham. Vegetables: potatoes, tomatoes, boiled cabbage, cucumbers, (not sure of this item but think I’ve seen them,) boiled corn, boiled corn-heads. Pies: sometimes a piece of blackberry pie but generally none. Aids to consumption: hunger, no butter or wine allowed. Puddings: None. Extras: Grace before meal.

   After dinner, members again returned to their rendezvous at the front door, but I have observed that their conversation is invariably less eager and the differences in their opinion less obvious to the listener, after what Mr. Breckendoff’s house-keeper called “the noon-meal,” e than before it. In a short time they proceed to the legislative chamber—which is a dingy square school room, with five windows at one side and four windows at the other. A raised platform on which the speaker sets, supplies the place of the window on one side. The desk at which the members sit are the ordinary desks used at common schools and some sections of our country—in Missouri for ought I know to the contrary.

   I began this letter to occupy one hour I hardly knew how to dispose of. It is finished and my paper is. In my next extra letter I will give you a brief description of the personal appearances and habits of the prominent members of the House of Representatives.

J.R. Redpath

Daily Democrat, St. Louis, August 23, 1855, Webb Scrap Book, v. 5, p. 66.